


Tongue-tied

by sungyeowl



Series: lost in today and the past; lost in the future we had [4]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, i'm not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:30:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>It’s not like he doesn’t know Thomas, or anything, right? They’ve been friends for what, five years? They clicked as soon as the Professor set them as partners during the first Herbology class Ravenclaw shared with Gryffindor in the second year, and they’ve been good friends since then.<br/>He shouldn’t be this nervous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongue-tied

**Author's Note:**

> another one of tumblr prompts - 6. tongue-tied!

Newt’s hands shake when he leaves the Great Hall after dinner; the nervousness has already settled down in the pit of his stomach some time ago and he can feel it creeping up his neck in a traitorous blush – and, jesus, why is he even so nervous?  
It’s not like he doesn’t know Thomas, or anything, right? They’ve been friends for what, five years? They clicked as soon as the Professor set them as partners during the first Herbology class Ravenclaw shared with Gryffindor in the second year, and they’ve been good friends since then.  
He shouldn’t be this nervous.  
They have been hanging out together more times that Newt can count, really.  
But there was something weird in the note Thomas owled him this morning – ‘meet me by the lake at 6pm, alone’. No ‘shuckface’ to go along with the demand, no weird smiley faces, no indication as to why he required Newt to come alone. And that was so not Thomas – it wasn’t anything special or too suspicious, but it gave Newt this weird, giddy feeling. And he checked the parchment, too, using every spell he knew – it was definitely sent by Thomas, and no one else.  
So it wasn’t anyone (Minho, for example) pranking him, and either way, it’s not like Newt has any enemies to prank him in the first place.  
When Newt finally leaves the castle and the chilly air hits him in a swoosh, his hands are shaking so bad that he has to stuff them in his pockets, where he grips his wand tightly (just in case). It’s almost may so it’s not dark, not yet – so when Newt strains his sight a little, he can see Thomas walking back and forth by water near their usual spot.  
“Okay,” Newt mutters to himself, shaking his head with finality. It’s now or never. Thomas has probably had one of his brilliantly stupid ideas, or something – and Minho’s birthday are coming up, too, so maybe he thought of a surprise party. Or something. That’s definitely it. “Okay, let’s get this over with,” the blonde mumbles under his breath again and fasten his face, covering the distance separating him form is friend quicker than he would usually do because of his limp.  
“Hey,” the word sounds a little to breathy when it escapes Newt’s mouth, but he can’t do anything about it, so he just waits for Thomas, currently facing the water, to turn around. “What’s up?”  
Thomas all but twirls around abruptly (startling Newt a little in the process) and – okay, bollocks, there’s definitely something going on, Newt thinks with dread. Thomas is pale, more so than usual, but there’s also an unhealthy blush gracing his cheeks; his hair is messy, falling into his eyes that are weirdly watery and he fumbles with his hands behind his back. and Newt just wants to scream and run back to his common room because he’s terrified and Thomas is being weird, but adorably so, and Newt really, really doesn’t need to be reminded of his stupid, long-run crush on the shorter boy.  
Thomas doesn’t answer, just stares. Newt observes how his eyes shift nervously and how his skin gets even more red – and that’s rare, because Thomas is the one to babble. Non-stop and annoyingly.  
“What’s wrong with ya?” overcoming (not really) his fear, Newt asks eventually, willing his hand to stay in the pocket and not to spring up to Thomas’ shoulder (or cheek, fuck, shut up).  
Thomas’ eyes widen, then he shakes his head. He stares some more and tenses, apparently straining to get the words out of himself – but there’s only a muffled gurgling noise coming from his throat. Realization hits Newt like a bloody bludger and he probably has never cast the counter-spell so fast in his life.  
When his tongue glues off of the roof of his mouth, Thomas exhales deeply and coughs a few time.  
“What’s going on?” Newt urges, curiosity burning more than horror.  
“I just,” Thomas croaks out, pointing his eyes to the grass under their feet. “I’m gonna kill him one day, I swear.”  
“Minho,” it’s not a question but statement. Newt stifles the urge to laugh out loud hysterically, because, damn, he should have known it would be their friend’s doing. “Why would he do that?”  
Thomas tenses, yet again – but the looks up, straight into Newt’s eyes. There’s a frown knitting his brows together now and he seems hesitant. Newt observes as a shade of worry crosses his face, but then Thomas apparently settles his mind or whatever that is e wants to say and opens his mouth.  
“He Langlock-ed me when I told him I was gonna do this today,” Thomas says quickly, but quietly. Newt raises his eyebrows, not really understanding, but he doesn’t ask, because Thomas has already started his usual fir of babbling. “Minho says I’ll fuck this up, like, without a plan and all, but. I just have to do it, okay?”  
“Do what exactly, Tommy…?” Newt asks slowly, not really knowing what to expect or what to do with his hands (he just grips his wand tighter – so tight he thinks he can feel a crack of the wood under is fingers, damn ).  
Thomas closes his eyes for a brief moment, then blurts out, “Confess.”  
“Oh,” now that’s definitely a blush on Newt’s cheeks now, as he can practically feel them burning. Oh man. “Like, um. To me?”  
“Yeah,” Thomas nods sheepishly, scratching the back of his head in the most adorable gesture Newt has ever had a chance to witness (he’s doomed, okay). “So, uh. Newt. I like you.”  
Newt’s probably flushing all over now, staring at Thomas who doesn’t look any better than Newt feels.  
“I like you too, Tommy. Actually.”  
“Thank god,” Thomas mumbles, visibly relaxing.  
Newt is glad for Minho and his habit to butt into business that isn’t his; and for the tongue-tying jinx, too, he muses as they make their way back to the castle, Thomas’ hand clasped – a little awkwardly – in his.


End file.
